<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>you might as well live by fluffywambler</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459575">you might as well live</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffywambler/pseuds/fluffywambler'>fluffywambler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon Redemption Arc, Comicsverse, Depression, Gen, Guilt, Guilty Loki, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Redemption, Suicide, Therapy, hotlines, no beta we die like women</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:48:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffywambler/pseuds/fluffywambler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to die. But you've probably seen that line at least eight times already tonight. That's not very original."</p>
<p>After America wouldn't do it for him, Loki seriously thought about doing it himself. What do mortals do when they want to end their own lives? And how do you go on living after you've fallen into a pit so deep you just want to hide from the world forever?</p>
<p>Set immediately after Young Avengers vol. 2 #15.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you might as well live</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning: This fic is about guilt, depression, and considering suicide, and draws partially from my personal experiences of these things. It's fairly intense, and contains very mild self-harm and mention of some Bad Things that happened in canon, such as the death of a child and some pretty ugly emotional manipulation. If any of these things are potentially triggering for you, please be aware. It's not actually a deathfic, though!</p>
<p>At the risk of TMI, I know what it feels like to want to die because you know you're a bad person and you know the world would be a better place without you. I also know what it's like to want to erase your past and start over fresh. One of the reasons for my fascination with Young Avengers/Agent of Asgard-era Loki is that I've <i>been</i> there. Be ye warned, we are steering for the Id Vortex.</p>
<p>This one's for all you fellow fannish fuckups out there.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the low cloud where he'd levitated, hidden, and watched the Young Avengers celebrate their victory, Loki murmured the incantation to bring himself back to his apartment. His ears popped slightly as he appeared in the living room in front of the window.</p>
<p>Outside, Upper Manhattan near Fort Tryon Park was gray, grimy, and windy. A lone ornamental tree near bare of leaves bent in a gust, close to snapping.</p>
<p>His phone buzzed, and he looked out of habit: a text from Kate. <b>We're on our way to Billy's parents' place for dinner. Where are you?</b></p>
<p>That was the Young Avengers: good and pure and far too forgiving. He didn't deserve them, and he never would. He recounted to himself the harms he'd done them, a firm reminder of why he wasn't going to reply. He'd used and manipulated them. He'd nearly driven Billy to suicide, then nearly convinced him he was unconsciously forcing Teddy to love him. He'd bargained with an interdimensional parasite that ended up coming after them and torturing Teddy horribly.</p>
<p>And then his own guilt had taken shape against his conscious will and nearly destroyed them all. The lies he'd told Billy had been projection of half-formed fears about himself that he didn't want to acknowledge.</p>
<p>Even confessing he was a simulacrum of a monster's soul, a living murder weapon made to kill a child, hadn't scared them away. He'd seen shock and anger in their faces, but instead of revulsion he'd seen <i>compassion</i>.</p>
<p>The way he'd warped reality without even knowing it proved him a god, but he barely felt like a <i>person</i>. He was old Loki's centuries of memory, and the child's conscience, and a body shaped by Billy's magic, patched together into... what?</p>
<p>Another text buzzed in. <b>Hey, are you ok?</b></p>
<p>He laughed mirthlessly at that, and sat down heavily on the couch. He'd spent the whole day pushing himself hard, burning vast amounts of magical energy; his head ached, a throbbing pain asserting itself on top of a dull one. Maybe he should drink some water, take several doses of pain medication meant for mortals, but that would require getting up.</p>
<p>There was no phantom child taunting him with recounted sins and bad puns. It was all in his head. Maybe that was worse.</p>
<p>
  <i>Fraud. Coward. Cruel, treacherous "friend." People like you never change, and they don't deserve to. They just deserve to die.</i>
</p>
<p>The old Loki had deserved his death a thousand times over... and Loki remembered every bit of why.</p>
<p>He remembered manipulating a madman into killing <i>hundreds</i> of people and blaming it on Thor. He remembered levitating above Chicago, watching them die. He remembered standing atop a tower in Asgard, laughing and gloating as a mortal army led by superhumans advanced. And he remembered thinking it was all hilarious, with any guilt or regret as the faintest afterthought.</p>
<p>His guts twisted. He swallowed and breathed deeply through surge after surge of nausea.</p>
<p>Those people hadn't deserved to die. What had they felt? Who had they even been? Who was still alive out there who had loved them?</p>
<p>That was what he was a copy of. That was part of him. Someone who would do that.</p>
<p>It wasn't the first time these thoughts had come to him. He'd been hiding them for months, for all that he'd been able to shut them up at first and focus on regaining his lost power.</p>
<p>He'd smiled beatifically at America Chavez when she'd demanded to know what he was thinking, when what he'd been thinking was how it felt to exult in the power of having someone else completely under his control.</p>
<p>He'd given David the same smile when he'd accusingly told him that he felt guilty about something. (Later he'd thought about how perceptive David was, and how dangerous but also potentially useful that could be.)</p>
<p>He'd pretended he had no idea what Billy was talking about when Billy had caught his startled reaction to the phantom child manifesting to scold him.</p>
<p>When Kate had overheard him retching in the bathroom of Noh-Varr's spaceship one night, so torn inside and guilty and disgusted with himself that he was physically ill, he'd pretended the trouble was something he'd eaten, and had played the sick child while she fussed over him. (The Young Avengers, bless them, no doubt still thought he had a bad reaction to shrimp.)</p>
<p>No, he wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't going to think about shrimp or any other kind of food, and he <i>definitely</i> wasn't going to think about vomiting, because he was <i>not</i> going to be sick on the rug.</p>
<p>Breathe in, breathe out. Keep swallowing, keep breathing. His heart was pounding and his fingers were starting to prickle. Maybe if he hyperventilated enough, he'd feel numb, and numb was good.</p>
<p>He was going to think about David again. About David's intelligence and sharp tongue, and his big dark eyes, and the elegant curve of his cheek and lips. About the way his tight outfit showed off his slim muscular build, and about how watching him once he'd acquired his new adult body had made him tingle.</p>
<p>But he couldn't feel that warm fluttering in his chest, that pleasant burn of want lower down. He just felt cold and sick and angry at himself for still thinking that way about someone he'd harmed.</p>
<p>He was never going to see the Young Avengers again, and that hurt so much. He cared about them, and he loved their company, and somehow he missed them already.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>America hadn't killed him. Fucking heroes and their codes of honor. He hadn't needed to talk her out of it, because he hadn't managed to talk her into it.</p>
<p>The vengeful exes had vanished like smoke. Loki's wish to die hadn't.</p>
<p>He thought about all the ways he could do it. Jumping out the window wouldn't be enough, though it might crack a bone or two. Maybe jumping off a bridge would do it, if it were high enough, especially if he knocked himself unconscious and drowned. He could find a huge amount of mortal drugs, preferably washed down with lots of hard liquor, and maybe that would suffice. A gun wouldn't do much but hurt, if he went to the trouble of going out and getting one. Hanging himself would require a rope and something to do it from, and would likely end up slow and painful.</p>
<p>He had a dagger right there at his belt.</p>
<p>So he drew it.</p>
<p>He traced the inside of his wrist with it, touched it to the blue veins there, pressed the tip in until he almost broke the skin.</p>
<p>His neck would be much faster, surer. He pressed a finger to the pulse of his carotid artery, then set the dagger there. He breathed in, breathed out, cold metal against his skin, gathering his courage.</p>
<p>How long would it take anyone to find him? Mortals would be delighted by news of his death, no doubt. Asgardians would be saddened... mostly... since they didn't know the truth. Thor would be heartbroken, again, but it was for the best.</p>
<p>Just one hard cut in the right place, and all the realms would be rid of him.</p>
<p>And then he remembered... maybe they wouldn't.</p>
<p>The old Loki had made a deal with Hela to have his name struck from her books. That was how the child had come to be, how <i>he</i> had come to be.</p>
<p>He could die. He – Loki the consciousness, the <i>person</i> - would be gone. Maybe utterly annihilated, as it seemed had happened to the poor child; he wasn't sure. But Loki the archetype would continue. There would probably be another Loki. How awful would that Loki be?</p>
<p>He didn't want to think about that. He wanted to die, but he was afraid to.</p>
<p>(This was what he'd done to Billy. Billy, who'd already suffered so much. His stomach roiled again, and he closed his eyes and took deep breaths.)</p>
<p>Failing death, he just wanted to talk to someone. Someone he could tell just enough, but not too much. Someone who might help him find something he could do other than die, or at least someone who would say something kind.</p>
<p>Contacting any of the Young Avengers would be selfish; he'd already decided he wasn't going to do that. Contacting Thor, or anyone else in Asgard, would lead to questions. He wasn't going to confess any of what he'd done to them; there was no telling what they'd do. <i>Coward.</i></p>
<p>It would have to be someone who didn't know him, someone who'd never have to know him. He shouldn't inflict his presence on anyone ever again, any more than he had to.</p>
<p>What did mortals do in this situation?</p>
<p>Still holding the dagger to his throat, he picked up his phone and Googled <i>anonymous suicide help</i> with his free hand.</p>
<p>A little down the first page was an entry for a "crisis text line." Which sounded better, more anonymous somehow, than calling a phone number.</p>
<p>He skimmed over the site, hoping he'd found someone who wouldn't call police or an ambulance to his location. He didn't want a confrontation, didn't want to have to escape by teleporting somewhere. Eventually he found an answer of sorts; they occasionally called 911 if someone was in imminent danger of suicide and couldn't work out a safety plan with the counselor.</p>
<p>Well, he'd just be careful with that information, then. He'd already have to vague up his situation a bit. Not exactly difficult for the God of Lies.</p>
<p>He texted <b>HELP</b> to the number, fighting an intense self-consciousness. Asking for help was something the old Loki would never have done. Maybe that was a good reason to do it.</p>
<p>After two automated messages, the second of which asked <b>What's on your mind?</b> he typed back <b>I want to die. But you've probably seen that line at least eight times already tonight. That's not very original.</b></p>
<p>After a few minutes, or an eternity, a reply came in.</p>
<p>
  <b>This is Jamie, a volunteer operator. I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have a plan and means to do it?</b>
</p>
<p>He knew better than to tell Jamie he had a knife to his throat at that very moment. <b>I've thought about a number of them, some more creative than others. Always good to have options.</b></p>
<p>
  <b>Are you in a public place, or at home? Is anyone with you?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Home alone, minus the booby-traps for burglars. Sorry to disappoint.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Do you have anyone you can call or visit?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Not really. My brother lives nearby part of the time, but telling him about my problems might not go well. Our history is... complicated. And I had friends, but I ghosted them because I'm a shitty person who did horrible things to them.</b>
</p>
<p>Outside he could hear a yelling band of teenagers, his neighbor's thumping reggaeton, a car horn. Finally he heard the buzz of another text. <b>Did they tell you that you were a bad person and that they didn't want to see you, or is that coming from yourself?</b></p>
<p>
  <b>They didn't say so, but I'm far from the only person to come to such a conclusion about me. Let's just say I have a rap sheet.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Approximately one in three American adults has a criminal record. Most of them have people who love them. People make mistakes.</b>
</p>
<p>Sweet naive Jamie.  <b>It's the unforgivable kind of record. I nearly drove one of my friends to suicide on purpose. I stopped him before he could do it, but just barely. I convinced him he was coercing his boyfriend into their relationship, which he wasn't. I endangered their lives doing something selfish. That isn't even all of it.</b></p>
<p>Jamie was silent for a while, possibly out of shock. Loki stared silently out the window, feeling the dagger point poke into his skin with every breath. <b>Is this why you want to end your life?</b></p>
<p>Loki could almost hear the phantom child's mocking laughter, almost see his accusing eyes. <i>Of COURSE you don't even mention killing me</i>, he'd have said. <b>A large part of why, yes.</b></p>
<p>
  <b>That tells me that you feel so guilty about these things that you want to die. Which means that you want to change, and do better in the future.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>I deserve to die.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Would your death actually do any good for your friends? I suspect THEY would end up feeling guilty about it. And you said you ghosted them, not that they ended their friendship with you. They probably still care about you in some way, even though you have seriously harmed them.</b>
</p>
<p>Loki lowered the dagger. <b>I want to change. I'm afraid that I can't. Other people would be safer without me around, and the world would be a better place without me in it.</b></p>
<p>
  <b>You obviously have a conscience, or you wouldn't be worried about whether you're a good person. That tells me you aren't irredeemable. It tells me you already HAVE changed.</b>
</p>
<p>Loki slid the dagger into the sheath at his belt. Tears prickled at his eyes. <b>Even if that's true, I can't face the future with a past like this. I can't face feeling this way for the rest of my life.</b> He paused, and sent a second text. <b>Even if that's also something I deserve.</b></p>
<p>
  <b>You were able to form friendships in the first place, so you have some ability to relate to other people. You also seem to have a sense of humor even when things are really hard. Can you think of anything else that you are good at? Anything else you like to do? Any ambitions you have, or good things that you think you might be able to do?</b>
</p>
<p><i>I'm good at lying and manipulating people. I remember dozens of ways to kill someone. I miss my old power, but I'm afraid of what I'd do with it. Ambition and I are a bad combination.</i> He didn't type any of that. <b>I like Game of Thrones, video games, and the internet. I like Shakespeare. I'm okay-ish at writing. I want to learn to cook.</b> These pleasures seemed hollow now, but he'd been able to enjoy them in the past, at least when he wasn't at his worst. <b>I want to make up for everything I've done, but I don't know how.</b></p>
<p><b>You don't have to worry about making up for everything tonight. For right now, I just want you to worry about getting better and being safe.</b> Another text followed. <b>Maybe you could cook something for yourself right now.</b></p>
<p><b>I'm not feeling well. If I tried to eat, I'd probably throw up.</b> Which was true, even if it was also that cooking sounded like an enormous effort right now. He kneaded just below his brows, trying to ease the pain behind his eyes.</p>
<p>
  <b>Then maybe you could play a game. What games do you like?</b>
</p>
<p>Games did not sound appealing right now, with his head feeling as if it would break. <b>Mostly right now I just want to sleep.</b></p>
<p><b>That sounds like a good idea for now.</b> Jamie paused, and sent a second text. <b>But remember that there are things you like to do. Tomorrow, you should find recipes you'd like to make. Make progress in your favorite video game, or buy yourself a new one. You said you liked Shakespeare; if you live near any theaters, maybe find out when the next performance you can afford is and buy a ticket, even if you want to go alone.</b></p>
<p><b>Thanks.</b> He didn't want to do any of those things, but he didn't feel like arguing.</p>
<p>
  <b>And remember what I said about you. You've proven to me that you have a conscience, and also that you are brave enough to reach out to us.</b>
</p>
<p><b>I'd call it weakness rather than bravery.</b> Brave was what Thor was. Brave was what the Young Avengers were, and what the child had been.</p>
<p>
  <b>Being a little bit weak sometimes only means you're human.</b>
</p>
<p>The old Loki would have been furious at such an insult as being mistaken for human. But from what he'd seen of humanity recently, it felt like an honor. A lump formed in his throat; he sniffed and blinked hard.</p>
<p><b>No matter what your past is,</b> Jamie added, <b>you have the rest of your life to be kind. I believe you can do it.</b></p>
<p>
  <b>I doubt you'd have that confidence if you knew me better, but I appreciate the sentiment.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Let's think about your safety plan. Do you still feel in imminent danger of harming yourself?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>No. Honestly, it sounds like too much work.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Who will you contact if you feel suicidal or otherwise in crisis?</b>
</p>
<p><b>This number, I guess. Family and friends are pretty much out, as I mentioned before.</b> He pressed at his temples. <b>Sorry, I know that's not the answer you wanted.</b></p>
<p>
  <b>That's OK. And you'll remember the things you want to live for. Write them down as a note for yourself that you can look at. You want to live in such a way as to make up for your past mistakes. You want to learn to cook. You want to play video games. And I think someday you will find people you can be close to again.</b>
</p>
<p><b>Maybe.</b> It would be selfish, it would put them in danger, but he wanted it. He was bad at friendship, but the thought of being alone forever after what he'd had....</p>
<p>
  <b>Are there also things you can do on your own to take your mind off feelings like these? Some people find exercise helpful.</b>
</p>
<p><b>OK.</b> He had the memories of centuries worth of training in the sword, and had done at least a few minutes of stretching, practice, and sparring every day when he was with the Young Avengers. It wasn't usually meant to calm himself, though it sometimes had that effect.</p>
<p>
  <b>When things are especially bad in the moment, you might want to distract yourself. Splash cold water on your face. It sounds very simple, but it may help to clear your head and take your mind off your thoughts. If things are really bad, immerse your whole face in ice water for 30 seconds. Some people also find it helpful to eat something with a very intense flavor, like sour candy or a lime slice.</b>
</p>
<p>He was skeptical of all of this, but he'd always found cold refreshing. Probably had something to do with his <i>jotunn</i> ancestry; interesting to know there were mortals who felt the same.</p>
<p><b>I'm going to send you a few links to resources you might find helpful.</b> The next few texts were abbreviated links; maybe he'd click them later. <b>Good night. I hope things improve soon for you.</b></p>
<p><b>Thank you for everything. Especially for telling me that worrying about being a bad person means I'm not irredeemable, even after I told you what a bad person I really am.</b> <i>Well, part of what a bad person I am.</i> <b>It might be a lie, but if so it's a pretty lie, and that's something I can appreciate.</b></p>
<p>He felt a little better, for now, even if he was closer to tears. Looking into his future was still like looking into an abyss in Mephisto's Hell. <i>Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate</i>, his little hooded Ghost of Christmas Past would probably have quoted at him, if he'd been here.</p>
<p>He envied mortals their short lives. A few decades and they were gone. He was trapped, bound to existence for millennia, and if he died another Loki would take his place, and that Loki would probably be worse.</p>
<p><i>Damn you</i>, he thought at his former self again. The older former self, the one who'd damned them all.</p>
<p>Dying would just be transferring his damnation to another Loki. And to anyone that other Loki hurt.</p>
<p>What a typically selfish thing for him to consider. Part of him still wanted it, but he wasn't going to do it. At least, not right now.</p>
<p>His throat was tight, closed up so hard it kept interrupting his attempts to breathe. His vision was blurry with tears, and his nose had started running; he dabbed at his face with a tissue. His head pounded with pain, and he just wanted to hide in the dark.</p>
<p>He shuffled slowly to his bedroom, took off everything but his undershirt, and crawled under the covers.</p>
<p>There, something broke inside him. The choking sounds of his breath turned into deep hoarse sobs, and tears spilled down his face.</p>
<p>
  <i>Does Loki cry?</i>
</p>
<p>The child certainly had, and had every right to. He didn't, but he couldn't stop.</p>
<p>He cried until his stomach ached, cried until his nose was so stuffy he couldn't breathe through it and the pressure made his headache even worse. It was a cathartic, exhausting relief, as if he'd been waiting for it the past year and more.</p>
<p>He managed to get up long enough to blow his nose and wash down a small handful of Advil, then curled up again, hiccupping and sniffling. Part of him was relieved that no one could see him, no one would ever know. Part of him just wished someone who cared about him were there to hold him. He didn't deserve it, but he wanted it.</p>
<p>The closest thing was the warm weight of the comforter around him.</p>
<p>A few last tears soaked into the pillow, until sleep mercifully overcame him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Crisis Text Line is real. I've used it. The number is 741741; they'll send you the automated texts after you send them anything, then connect you to a volunteer operator after a few minutes.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>